


Memories

by CryCry



Category: Original Work, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Gen, Hatred, Sadness, Y U do dis to me?, forgotten, vent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-31 17:48:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8588002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CryCry/pseuds/CryCry
Summary: This world is considered to be somewhat cruel to some people, right?
 I'm probably just selfish, but I feel so alone right now. Everything seems like a blur as time passes by in a blink of an eye. Of course, not literally, but it feels as if it is. I'm losing way too much time, but there's nothing I can do about it. I'm hopeless... They took it....





	

The sound of someone colliding to the ground is audible outside the house. I quickly close unnecessary tabs, running outside with _him_ waiting outside. Soft whimpering are audible outside, as I've quickly notice that it's a child. He take him inside, telling me to clean his knees and elbows from the dirt that may be covering it. My eyes went completely blank-like as he continues to lecture me. It's not really a lecture, it sounded more of a threat or something alike-maybe a warning-.

_**"You should've took him to the store. Next time, guide him to the store."**_ his tone sounds threatening as I an only nod and stare blankly to the outside world. _It has always been like this_.

 

I have never been fond of the word 'freedom'. I was barely given any freedom by my parents at my young age, making me somewhat of a rebellious and stubborn person. I was only given my 'so-deserved' freedom when I was attending Elementary School. It wasn't what I was hoping for either; I was bullied back then. Everybody gives me the cold shoulders, nobody liked me, they called me by names. There's this one girl though, she has autism and nobody liked her for her abnormal presence too. She was my only friend back then, her name is Nanda. She's a good listener, but is also a quiet person-almost never talking-. She would only nod as her response to my questions, whether it's right or wrong. I enjoy her company, although I never truly saw her genuine smile.

While being bullied back at Elementary School, I've always maintained a cheerful personality. I didn't care what others think of me, as long as I'm enjoying it. The males became my 'friends', at least in my opinion. They hated me, just like everybody else. The reasons vary from one another; I'm a freak, I'm dumb, stupid, ugly, a monster, tomboy, etc. Regardless of their words, I was the protector of the class. I remember one of my classmates was being bullied at P.E by one of the seniors, until I came and barked at them to back off. Not t mention, the seniors are also afraid of me for my mimicking talent. They never really showed their gratitude to me, but I'm more than satisfied to have saved them from those seniors. It bugs me to see the seniors bullying either of my classmates, even though they clearly hate me.

I've reported to my teacher, which still has a bond between my grandmother, about those bullies. It never really went right, the teacher would often just call me a cry baby, make jokes out of me, or even call my parents once. My parents believed in my words, but they never really do anything to stop the bullies from attacking me. My mother would probably just visit my class, told the bully like he's her own son, then walks away to go to her office. I didn't complain, even though the bullying continued.

The bullying had stopped as I reached second grade. The students had finally believed in my talents, which is drawing. They also believed in my brain, which seems to prove to have quite the potential. From then on, I have many friends. But, sadly good things won't last long. Nanda, my first ever friend, had to leave school for her lack in the studies. I was devastated, although I managed to get myself a few friends here.

Let's just skip through the whole dramas. Let's see; I was bad at math when I was at second grade, until a person teach me to count in the right way; I was still called a 'beast', 'monster', or 'an elephant' 'till I was at fourth grade; I have perfect mimicking skill at such a young age; Every teachers shrugs me off for my ugliness-except for my fifth grade teacher-, at least that's what I think; I lost many friends at second grade, due to them moving out of the city-including my best friend, Amy-; I fell in love to my classmate, which also happens to be the class leader; I've attracted the whole group of the 'smartest' people in our class-reasons unknown-; and, I got a quite satisfying grade.

But, through those years that I've spent with them, I couldn't help but feel an odd feeling. When I hang out with the dudes-the trio smartest people in our class- and my group of friends-which consist off of five people-, we were enjoying our times by discussing anything genuinely. But, as I hang out with the others, I couldn't help but feel that _there's nothing genuine in our friendship_. They are simply wasting my time by doing, asking, or just plainly telling something ridiculous. They would rarely converse with me, not until the subject is either English or Math. They would ask me the answers to the questions, but I would probably lie to them by saying 'I don't really get what this book means...' and acting a a dumb girl. This is quite the effective method, but it wouldn't work all the time.

Through those years-currently in my early fifth grade-, I have noticed the many flaws that I've owned; stubborn, too nice, too caring, rather blunt, 'odd one out', etc.. Clearly, I fell into a light depression, due to the rising tension in my family and the hard works school had given to me. I was quite lucky to have met my fifth grade teacher, for she is one of my hope and motivation to keep on doing what I love. Along with my -now deceased-grandma to back up back then.

So, after getting pass fourth grade, I learned many kinds of things; mostly being psychological matters. It helps me through my daily life, from telling if a person is lying or not to deciding to rely on my intuition or my brain. Everything is a lot more easier to get through, but not with the problems in my head. It's not mental illness, thank goodness. It's a problem with my memories. I've hit my head to different types of objects multiple times, most of them being hard, solid material. It's an accident, for most of the time.

 

Sighing, I look outside the window with a small-almost invisible-smile. It's a lovely night outside, the moon shining without any clouds covering the sky. It's quite cold for a temperature here, too. But, I didn't mind. I kinda like the cold.

_"There's a long way to go,"_

**Author's Note:**

> As mainstream as it may sound, it's based off of a true life event(s). I took it from a certain someone, making this some kind of a journal to keep track of your daily life.
> 
> Stil, hope you enjoy ^^


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